Butte semi-weekly miner. [volume] (Butte, Mont.) 1886-1890, 1887-01-29

Won6 up 70 0Am myself, 0Hl iOOkoO. Wu0S
could ! dol Why, it was hard enough to 70
move our own wounded. All! the ~scoundrelsi
they're firing round shot nowl"
Mikhailof had sat down, and was pressing
I, both hands to his head-the effort Of walking
had increased the pain.
mo; we must really go back for him Mikhail
Ivanitch; be may be alive, it is our duty!"
Mikhail Ivanitch answered not a word.
"Children, we must go back for that
wounded officer in the trench" again said
! Mikhailof, without raising his voice, or speak
in, in q tons Of command; for he felt how
disagreeable the order would seem to the
| soldiers.
As he addressed NO enc in particular, no
one came forward.
"Who knowsi perhaps he IS really dead,
and not worth while to expose our mems lives
u~selessly for. It is my W fault; l ought to
have thought about it" said Mikhailof. I'm
60 by myself; it is my duty, Mikhail Ivan
itch" he continued in a loud tone, "you lead
the company; I'll soon catch up with YOU"
And gathering the folds of his cloak in one
/ hand he touched the little picture of st.
| Mitrophane with the other; he wore it al
ways on his breast, by special devotion to
that holy person.
The captain vent back and found that
Praskoukine was quite dead.
IN THE HOSPITAL.
Prince Gaitzine made his way with diff
Guilty to the door, through the press Of
soldiers, litter carriers, bearers of the dead,
all the throng Of those who were carrying in
the wounded and carrying out the dead.
Galtzine entered the first room, gave one
glance around him, i~nvoluntarily recoiled.
and rushed back hastily into the street; what
be had seen was too frightful.
The vast apartment-lofty and dark,
lighted only by four Of five candles, which
the physicians moved to and fro as they
passed from one wounded man to another
was literally packed with people. The litter
bearers were continually bringing in more
wounded, and placing them side by side upon
the floor; such was the crush that these poor
wretches were pushing each other, and wal
lowing in each others blood. Pools of blood
thickening in a few temporarily vacant
places, the fevered breathing of several hun
dred men, the perspiration of those carrying
the dead and wounded, all aided to create a
heavy, thick, noisome atmosphere, through
which the candles burned dimly in different
parts of the room, amid a confused murmur
of means, signs and death ~rattles, occasionally
interrupted by piercing screams. Nuns-the
Sisters of Charity-whose calm faces ex-
pressed mono of the futile and fearful compass
sion of woman, but an earnest and active in
terest only, were gliding here and there,
through the press Of bloody uniforms and
shirts-sometimes having to step over the
Misunderstanding medicines, water, band
ages and lint. The surgeons, with their
sleeves rolled up, knelt beside the wounded
men, and, under the light of torches held by
assistants, probed and examined wounds, in
spite of the awful screams and suppiications
of the patients. Seated at q little table be-
side the door, a major was writing down the
number $50.
"Ivan Bogoief, musketeer in third Company
C-Regiment: fracture femoris complicata!"
shouted a surgeon from the other end of
the hall, as he bandaged a broken limb.
turn him over"
"Oh! oh!-my good fathers!" groaned the
soldier, entreating them to leave him alone.
"Perforatio capitis: Simon Neferdof, lieu
tenant-colonel of N-infantry regiment. Try
and be patient, colonel, l cannot help it; then
! shall be obliged just to leave you there"
cried a third surgeon, who was plunging a
sort Of hook In the head of the wretched Off
Ger.
"Do it quick-for Gods sake, quick"
"PerforatioF pcctoris: Sebastian Sereda,
private. What regiment? Never mind; it is
no use. Moritur, take him away" ordered
the surgeon, leaving the wounded man, whose
eyes began to roll up as the death rattle
came.
Some forty soldiers, carrying filters, await
ed their burdens at the door; conveying the
living to the hospital wards, the dead to the
church. They waited in silence; and a sigh
occasionally escaped them as they gazed upon
the scene.-Leon Tolstol, translated for the
Globe Democrat.